Ghostly Interventions
by pupeez4eva
Summary: After a trip to the manor, Jason starts seeing the ghosts of Thomas and Martha Wayne, who are determined to reunite the family. To Jason's horror, he seems to be central to this plan.
1. Chapter 1

In hindsight, this had been a _really_ bad idea. When Alfred had asked him to stop by the manor for lunch, he'd been so close to saying no. It's not like he'd been back there in years, not since… anyway, it wasn't a huge loss. He was _fine_ just where he was, especially since it meant he was far away from his so-called family. Bumping into those idiots during patrol was bad enough; he didn't need to spend his free time with them too.

But Alfred had sounded so hopeful, and he was the one person Jason still had a hard time disappointing. Alfred had never let him down, not like Bruce, and Dick, and everyone else. Combined with the promise of his favourite foods (it'd be nice to have something other than shitty frozen meals for a change) and the deciding factor — the fact that Bruce would be away on a business trip that day — had ultimately convinced him to accept the offer.

It was just one short, meaningless lunch, that he could bring up as his defence if Alfred ever tried to guilt him into another one.

(Sure, he'd thought that, but he should have known that going to that stupid house was a bad idea).

…

Maybe if he hadn't looked, if he'd just minded his own business, and reminded himself that he was here for two reasons — to placate Alfred and stuff his face — things would have been different.

But who was he kidding? It was pretty damn hard to just _ignore_ it, no matter how much he wished he had.

"Oh he's back!"

"He's going to be so happy…"

"He's not here at the moment, remember? Pity, I know he would have been so…"

Jason's head snapped to the side (an unfortunate move, he'd later realise), his eyes scanning over the the source of the whispers — a man and a woman, standing near the base of the staircase. They looked vaguely familiar, but Jason couldn't put his finger on where he'd seen them. 'Friends' of Bruce's maybe; the old man still had to maintain his air headed playboy act, so it wasn't exactly out of character to see rich socialites stopping by from time to time. Their clothing definitely supported to that idea.

Didn't really explain what they were doing here _now_ though, or why they were staring at him like a pair of creeps.

"What the hell are you looking at?!"

They reacted almost simultaneously, eyes widening in shock and mouths parting. Jason felt a spark of approval — serves them right for staring at him. Seriously what the fuck was _that_ about? — but before he could say anything else (bastards were _still_ staring and didn't even have the decency to sound ashamed) he heard Alfred calling from the dining room.

"Master Jason? What are you doing?"

Jason glared at them, before walking away. Whatever. They could hang around if they wanted to; it wasn't like he'd be sticking around for long anyway.

He entered the dining room just as Alfred was leaving, most likely heading towards the kitchen to finish up with lunch. Jason felt a spark of annoyance when he saw that his three 'brothers' were already sitting inside. He'd been lucky enough to avoid Bruce, but of course his luck only extended so far.

They were arguing by the sound of it. No surprise there.

" — and _that_ is why Drake was the worst Robin ever." Demon Brat had an annoying smirk stretched across his face. Jason had come to realise, over the short period of time he'd had the displeasure to know the brat, that his default expressions were smirks (if he was happy) or sneers (if he was angry, or feeling anything other than happy).

Apparently he had smiled once or twice, if Dickhead was to be believed, but personally Jason thought he was full of shit.

"Demon Brat, you realise no one _cares_ right?" That was Replacement. Jason leaned his back against the wall, watching the show with mild interest.

"Guys, that's enough," Dick admonished.

 _'_ _Fucking Golden Boy Goodie-Two-Shoes.'_

"Your tone of voice says otherwise," Damian retorted, ignoring Dick.

"Say what you want, Damian."

"I am simply speaking the truth, Drake. I am by far the best Robin."

Tim snorted.

" I will admit that Grayson is a close second, simply due to him being the first of us to carry the mantle. I tossed up between you and Todd for last place, but I suppose Todd's premature death prevented us from truly being able to analyse his failures as Robin. Therefore, I have to say — "

"Okay, not that this isn't fun and all, but what the fuck are you morons doing?"

The conversation halted almost immediately. Both Tim and Damian looked more annoyed than they had been — something Jason wasn't exactly opposed to, since any opportunity to cause these morons pain sounded great to him — but Dick perked up and shot him a wide grin. "Jay!"

Damian slouched in his chair. "Oh Lord no."

"Jason," Tim said, nodding uncomfortably in what Jason guessed was a poor attempt at a greeting.

He rolled his eyes. "Great to see you too. No, I'm not staying long. No, I don't really want to talk to any of you. But let me just ask one question — why the _hell_ are you talking about this while there are people hanging around?"

"Wait, what?" Dick's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Jason sighed. "You know, that woman and man — " He turned to gesture at where they'd been standing, only to find that there was no one there. He shrugged and turned back. "Huh. Guess they left."

Damian glared. "What nonsense are you sprouting, Todd?"

"Nothing." Jason walked over, throwing himself down on the sofa next to the youngest Wayne. Damian let out a noise of displeasure and shuffled away, ignoring Dick's reproachful stare.

"Hey Alfred!" Jason called out. "Is lunch ready?" He was seriously ready to get the hell out of here. He'd promised Alfred, so he'd stick around for a bit, but — _Christ_ this was as painful as he'd thought it'd be. Trust Bruce to pick the most fucked up individuals and bring them together in this shit-show of a 'family.'

Alfred reappeared in the doorway, and shot Jason a patient look. "Not yet. Perhaps you should sit down for a bit, Master Jason, and speak to your brothers. It's been a while since you've all seen each other."

Jason shot a glance at Dick's smiling face, Tim's averted gaze, and Damian's ever-present sneer, and thought, _'no fucking way.'_

Dick turned to him. "So Jay — "

"No," Jason said flatly.

"I just want to — "

"No."

"Just — " Dick was getting frustrated. Oh yeah, this was fun.

"Dickhead. No. Shut up."

"Master Jason!"

Jason twitched. "Oh come on! I _came_ here, didn't I? Now can we just eat so I can leave?!"

Damian nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, let's. And then you can go, Todd. You aren't welcome here."

Jason shrugged. "Yeah I will. Thanks kid, it's nice to see someone understands what I want."

Damian let out a series of indignant splutters.

…

He swore he'd heard whispering as he'd left the manor, but he quickly brushed this thought away, because no way was he spending anymore time in that place. Besides, if the man and woman had been intruders, there was no way a house full of Batman's proteges had missed them, especially when they clearly hadn't been putting any effort into hiding.

And if they had, then….well, that was their problem. Jason wasn't wasting any of his time thinking about this.

He came home, went through his usual routine — went out at night and patrolled as Red Hood, checked up with Roy and Kory, and then headed back to his apartment, eager to go to bed. He was tired, and while wondering around in heavy leather and a constricting helmet _looked_ pretty badass, it was uncomfortable as hell.

He'd been lying in bed for about fifteen minutes, drifting off to sleep, when he heard voices coming from his living room. He lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, and wondered if he could just go to sleep. It's not like he had anything valuable in his house, other than his phone and weapons, which were in the bedroom with him. This place was a dump. He had his TV, but it was a piece of shit and on the brink of breaking down for good. Let them have it; it'd just save him a trip to the garbage dump anyway.

The volume increased and Jason let out a groan of frustration. Shit, there was no way he was getting any sleep like this.

He pulled himself out of bed and grabbed his gun from the nightstand, switching the safety off. Muttering curses under his breath, he walked towards the doorway and flung the door open.

For a moment he just stood there, staring. The woman — the same one from earlier that day — was gazing around his living room curiously, while the man sat on his sofa, looking way too comfortable.

The woman was talking to the man — Jason was too busy trying to work out what was going on to really pay attention to what they were saying — and neither seemed to have noticed him standing in the open doorway, his gun pointed in their direction.

"Um, _hello?!_ Want to tell me what the fuck you're doing in my apartment?!"

Their heads snapped in his direction, but rather than looking scared, they looked a mixture of surprised and excited.

"See, Thomas?" the woman exclaimed. "I told you he could see us!" She turned back to Jason and gave him a wide, beaming smile.

The man nodded. "I guess you were right. I just couldn't believe it…no one has ever been able to — "

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you people?!" Jason snapped. "Has anyone ever told you not to ignore someone who's pointing a gun at you?!"

The woman nodded placatingly, still smiling. "Of course, sweetheart. We know that better than anyone."

Oh Jesus, these people were fucking insane. "Then what are you _doing?!_ " He lowered the gun slightly, and then let his hand drop to his side. Sure, they were obviously mentally unstable and had broken into his house, but there was something about them that made him feel uncomfortable about pointing a weapon at them. They didn't exactly seem dangerous, even though Jason knew that looks could be deceiving. Well - if they did attack, no matter how unlikely that seemed at the moment, Jason could probably take them down easily, with or without his gun.

"Who the hell are you people?" he asked. "I saw you at Bruce's place earlier today, and now you're here?" Another thought occurred to him, making him feel even more uneasy: "How did you even find this place?"

Did they _know_ about him? If that was the case, something would have to be done.

The man shrugged. "We followed you."

Oh because _that_ wasn't alarming at all.

The woman walked closer, and Jason watched her with weary eyes. "I know this might be confusing," she said, "but you have to understand — we haven't really spoken directly to anyone in…well, decades. Other than each other, of course. This is so nice…"

Jason pondered this. Hadn't spoken to anyone in decades? Maybe they'd escaped from an mental institution or a prison. Sure their appearances didn't exactly match up, but it wasn't exactly _impossible…_

Oh shit, the lady was still walking towards him.

"You're so handsome and grown up now — "

"For fuck's sake, _get the hell out!_ Look, you have some shit against Bruce? I don't care. Do what you want to him and those other morons. In fact, that'd be great. But I'd really like to get some sleep, so piss off before I decide to stop being so nice."

The woman just smiled as if she hadn't heard him, and said, "I'm your grandmother."

Jason's eye twitched. "Oh my god you crazy bitch, _leave."_

She sighed. "Jason, if you'd just let me understand — "

"You're not my grandmother. I've never met my grandparents, but if I _did_ have a grandmother, she sure as hell wouldn't look like you. I don't know how long you've been locked up for, but take a look in a mirror sometime, alright? You don't look _nearly_ old enough to have grandkids."

"I'm Bruce's mother," the woman said, and _Christ,_ this was really pissing him off. He was going to call the old man and give him a piece of his mind after this. Obviously, this was his fault somehow.

"Ha. Okay. I want you to…" And then his voice trailed off, because now that he was really _looking_ at the woman, he was staring to realise exactly _why_ he'd found her so familiar the first time he'd seen her. A quick glance at the man yielded the same conclusion. But there was no way…

Without a word, Jason walked to his room, pulled out his phone, and typed "Thomas and Martha Wayne" into the internet search bar.

For a while he just stared in numb disbelief, and then walked back to the other room. The man and woman - Thomas and Martha fucking Wayne, apparently - were still there, smiling at him.

Dammit, it was way too late to be dealing with this shit.

"You're Bruce's parents," he said flatly, and thoughts of alternate dimensions, and time travel, and lazarus pits, and ghosts filled his mind. Yeah, _way_ too late. Goddammit, this was definitely Bruce's fault.

 **...**

 **AN:**

 **Just an idea I had that I thought would be fun to write. I probably shouldn't be posting any more chaptered fics at the moment...but I really wanted to write this. And I've never really written Jason as a main character in a chaptered fic before, but I always have such a fun time writing him, that I thought I'd try it for a change. I have a few ideas for this, and it'll definitely have a heap of Batfam bonding. The length will depend on how many people actually end up reading this. This was initially going to be a one shot, but I had way too many ideas for it.**

 **Anyway tell me what you think. Hope you guys enjoy this! And sorry if things are a bit confusing now, but it should get clearer in the next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

"So let me get this straight — you're a _ghost."_

Martha - and shit, it was still hard to wrap his head around the idea that these were _Thomas and Martha Wayne -_ nodded her head and smiled. "Yes."

Jason shifted slightly and tried to hide his discomfort as he eyed the couple sitting across from him. Both Martha and Thomas looked far too comfortable, and Jason felt a spark of resentment. Dammit, it was _way_ too late to be dealing with this shit.

"So you _weren't_ brought back by the Lazarus Pit. And you aren't a bunch of time travellers, or from an alternate dimension." They shook their heads. "You're _ghosts."_

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "You say that like those are more likely scenarios."

Jason snorted. "Oh, you've missed a lot, Tommy Boy." He raised his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag. Martha watched him and frowned disapprovingly.

"Oh sweetie, you might want to put that away," she said. "It's not good for you."

Jason bit back a snort. Oh she was _definitely_ related to Bruce. Also, he really needed to take a moment to process this situation, because right now he was sitting on his sofa and having a nice little chat with Bruce's _dead parents,_ and that was just not normal. Sure, nothing in his life exactly constituted a normal life, but there were limits to everything, right? And _ghosts_ weren't supposed to exist.

He reached out and poked Thomas's arm; just like the last few times he'd done it, his finger went right through.

Jesus fuck, they were _ghosts._

"Now, I really think we should discuss things," Thomas said.

Jason sighed. "What's there to discuss? You're a ghost, she's a ghost, and you stalked me." Not to mention they were related to _Bruce._ Seriously, what had he done to deserve this? Why couldn't it be someone else — Dickhead, for instance. Shit, Golden Boy would just _love_ to have more Waynes to add to his collection.

Thomas coughed, looking slightly embarrassed. "Stalk is a very harsh word."

Martha nodded. "Yes, we were just very — excited."

"Which led to you stalking me."

"We weren't stalk — Jason, we're your grandparents."

Jason shook his head. "No, you're _Bruce's_ parents. Therefore, you are definitely _not_ my grandparents."

Maybe he was being a bit of an asshole — sure, Martha and Thomas were related to Bruce, but they hadn't exactly played a huge part in raising him, what with them dying prematurely and everything — but he was pretty much always an asshole anyway, so why fuck with perfection?

Jason dropped his cigarette to the floor and stepped on it, putting it out. He then stood up, stretched, and walked to the opposite end of the room, where the door to his bedroom was.

"Wait, where are you going?" Martha called after him.

"To bed," Jason said, without bothering to look back. "If you're still here in the morning, and this wasn't some fucked up dream or hallucination, then I'll call the local priest and get you exorcised or something."

"Exorcisms don't work."

Jason winced. "Oh for fuck's sake, fine, we'll _talk_ then. But I'm tired, and I'm going to bed. And please don't talk, because you people have _really_ loud voices."

As he left the room, he could hear them talking behind him in what Jason guessed were supposed to be whispers. He could probably cut them some slack for that though — it's not like they'd had any need to speak quietly over the last few decades or so.

"Is he really just going to bed now…?"

"He's changed a lot, hasn't he?"

Yeah, he was in desperate need of some sleep. He'd deal with this mess in the morning.

…

When he woke up, any hopes that the previous night had been a weird nightmare or hallucination were dashed when he stepped out of his bedroom, and was immediately greeted by matching "Hellos!" from Bruce's beaming dead parents.

They sat side-by-side on his sofa, with matching grins on their faces. Jason winced, rubbing his forehead. "Oh God, that's fucking freaky." He eyed them for a moment. Honestly, he'd been hoping he was just going crazy. Now that they were still here, he'd actually have to do something about this. _Goddammit._

"Oh, you're so grown up!" Martha cooed. She stood up and walked over, stopping only when she was standing directly in front of him. She cocked her head to the side, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. "I'm not sure about that hair though, that white streak is very — "

"I got it after being brought back from the dead _."_

Martha averted her eyes, looking slightly abashed. Thomas stood up, frowning slightly.

"Obviously we've gotten off on the wrong foot here," he said.

Jason shook his head. "No we haven't. Look, whether you're real or not — " Because hey, there was still the possibility that he was going crazy. Bruce would probably have a field day if that was the case; he'd love to have an opportunity to lock him up in Arkham, " — I can't really help you. And even if I could, I wouldn't, because…well, you're kind of annoying. And pushy. And related to _Bruce._ So just go back to wherever you came from." He frowned slightly. "Wait, where _did_ you come from? The manor?"

Thomas nodded. "It's where we've been since we died. We've made a few trips outside — "

"Okay, that's nice. You can fuck off now."

"Language!" Martha snapped, looking genuinely annoyed for the first time since this whole mess had begun.

Jason's eye twitched. "If I shoot you, what will happen?"

"We're already dead, so nothing." Martha already looked calmer, Jason noted, feeling more than a little annoyed. After decades of no human interaction with anyone but themselves, shouldn't it be a lot easier to get under their skin?

"Goddammit. Okay, fine, since you obviously aren't leaving — just stay there and don't talk."

Jason took a step backwards — because Martha was still standing in very close proximity, and he wasn't exactly comfortable with that — and turned around.

"Where are you going?!" Thomas called after him. "I really think we should — "

Jason shook his head. "No, no, this is a matter of grave importance. I _really_ need to piss."

He caught a glimpse of Martha and Thomas' matching incredulous expressions before he left the room.

…

By the time he returned, Martha and Thomas _still_ hadn't left. Jason bit back a sigh and resigned himself to the fact that they probably wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

The two of them were standing close together, talking quietly. When Jason entered the room, they glanced up and smiled at him.

"Are you done, sweetie?" Martha asked. "I understand that this must be a very stressful situation, so if you do need to relieve yourself again — "

Oh dear God. "I literally just woke up, and there are certain things a person needs to do in the morning," he said flatly. Sure, he'd just used that as an excuse to leave the room, but they didn't need to know that.

Martha nodded, unperturbed. "Can we talk now?"

Obviously this wasn't going to over until he found out what they wanted. Jason bit back a sigh and nodded his head. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Well, you see," Thomas said, "when we died — "

"Wait, no, I don't want to go back _that_ far. I just want to know why you're _here."_

" _When we died —"_

Jason's eye twitched.

" — we woke up like this. We couldn't see anyone, we couldn't talk to anyone. We went back to the manor because Bruce was there, and he needed us." Thomas sighed, his shoulders slumping. He suddenly looked very tired. "He couldn't see us. _No one_ could see us, until you."

Martha slid her arm through Thomas' and stood closer to him, as if for comfort. "Jason, you haven't been to the manor in years," she said softly. "The last time you were there, you couldn't see us. And then you came back, and you…could. I'm almost certain it has something to do with — "

" — me coming back from the dead? Of course it does." Jason rubbed his forehead. He could feel a headache forming. There were certain things he didn't like discussing, and having this turn into an in-depth conversation about his miraculous resurrection, and whatever fucked up aftereffects may have arose because of it was _not_ something he wanted to deal with.

Martha smiled. "Sweetie, I know this may be outside your comfort zone, but we're just so happy to find someone who can actually see us! To think, we can finally speak to a member of our family — "

"Okay, hold it," he said, cutting off whatever she'd been about to say next. "We need to get something straight — we are not _family._ You are _Bruce's_ parents."

"And Bruce is your father."

 _"No he is not!"_

Martha and Thomas exchanged glances, and Jason resisted the urge to scream. Goddammit, _why_ was this happening? All he wanted as to stay the fuck away from everyone and everything associated with the name 'Wayne', and now he was being stalked by the very people who had unleashed Bruce into this world? How was that _fair?_ And maybe, just maybe, he was just crazy — but in the world they were living in now, where things like aliens and witches existed, could he seriously be lucky enough to be imagining this whole thing?

There was also the fact that he had no real reason to be hallucinating this. He had literally no connection to Thomas and Martha Wayne beyond the few stories Bruce had told him back when they were still maintaining the whole family charade.

As much as he wanted all of this to be in his head — who cared if it meant he was officially crazy, he'd pretty much known that already — it probably wasn't. And that meant he was actually being followed around by a pair of ghosts who would _not leave him alone._

"Can we talk?" Martha asked hesitantly. "We really need to talk."

Jason sighed. "You aren't going to leave, are you?"

"Jason, I don't understand why you're being like this," Thomas said, frowning. "We only want to help."

Martha nodded. "This family is in shambles. We can help — we've been watching over this family for a long time Jason, and up until now, there was nothing we could do to fix any of this. But with you here — with you able to see us and talk to us — we could work together to reunite the family."

"Oh my _GOD,_ please shut up," Jason groaned, rubbing his forehead. Yeah, he could definitely feel a headache forming. "Christ, this is a nightmare. Okay, you've been dead for a while. Being dead sucks. But you were obviously doing fine at the manor, so why don't you go back there, because…I want nothing to do with any of this."

They stared at him.

 _"LEAVE!"_

He then turned around and walked out of the room. _Again._ Maybe they'd see it as cowardly, or think he was running away, but that was _not_ the case. He just needed breakfast, and aspirin, and he needed to process the situation far away from those two nut-jobs. Maybe by the time he returned, they'd actually be gone. Sure, he had pretty bad luck, but Martha and Thomas Wayne had died and stayed dead — and had apparently been forced to watch over the Bat Brady Bunch for the last few decades, which had to be torture for anyone — so obviously they had worse luck than him. Maybe they'd finally realise it was pointless, and they'd leave him in peace.

When he finished his breakfast and walked back, he wasn't even surprised that they still hadn't left.

 _Goddammit._

He felt his fists clench at his sides, and he walked straight past them, threw himself on the sofa, and reached for the remote. Fine — they wanted to follow him around? They could do that, but Jason sure as hell wasn't going to pay them any attention. Hopefully they'd eventually leave him alone, and he could forget that any of this had happened.

 **…**

 **AN:**

 **Yeah, Jason's being a bit of a jerk right now, but I figured that if he really doesn't want them there, he's not exactly going to be the nicest person to be around xD**

 **So I was so shocked by the response to this fic - I honestly didn't expect it to get the amount of attention it did - so thank you guys so much for taking the time to read this! And I can almost guarantee this is going to be a long fic because I've already come up with so may ideas for it.**

 **Anyway hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, and tell me what you think :)**


	3. Chapter 3

So far, Jason thought he was doing a pretty good job at ignoring his unwanted guests. They were still as annoying as fuck, and they didn't seem to understand the meaning of personal boundaries, but this was the fourth day since this nightmare had begun, and he hadn't said a word to them. Sure, he'd had plenty of murderous thoughts filled with all kinds of expletives, but unless they could somehow read minds (and considering that he knew very little about ghosts, he really hoped this wasn't the case), he could call them whatever he wanted to in his mind and still maintain a blissful exterior of _'I don't give a fuck.'_

The old bastards sure as hell didn't make it _easy_ though.

"I really think this apartment needs some better lighting…what do you think, Thomas? I think if he just replaces those curtains — they're not really letting in the natural light — "

Jason hummed to himself and turned up the volume of the television.

"Should we really be talking about curtains, dear?"

"Well, until Jason is ready to talk about other things, I don't see why not. What do you think, sweetie?"

What he _thought_ was that Martha Wayne was a devious bitch. Obviously he wasn't going to _tell_ her that, or inform her that he really didn't give a fuck about his curtains when 90% of this apartment was barely functioning as it was, because that'd mean he'd actually have to talk to her. Which he was _not going to do._

Maybe he'd invest in a really good pair of noise cancelling headphones. Those could be expensive though…maybe he could just steal Demon Brat's. Kid probably had a pair right? Bruce always had liked to splurge a bit on his latest charity projects.

Then again, Demon Brat wasn't a normal kid…he'd be better off paying a quick visit to Dickhead's apartment and see what he had lying around. Those bastards had to be good for something besides getting him stalked by the most annoying dead people ever.

Martha and Thomas continued to chat noisily in the background. Jason bit back a groan, and turned up the volume of the television yet again. Maybe he wasn't doing such a good job after all.

…

All of his restraint amounted to nothing and, as usual, the cause of yet another one of his problems was none other than his so-called family.

Maybe he hadn't had it completely under control, maybe those fuckers had been driving him _insane,_ but at least he'd had the satisfaction of knowing that maybe, just maybe, he was pissing them off just as much with his silence.

Then Dickhead and Demon Brat had shown up, and any progress he'd made had fucked off to wherever all the good things in his life eventually ended up.

Martha and Thomas had decided to follow him on patrol, much to his displeasure. While they had mostly seemed content to hang around his apartment and comment on the overall shitty-ness of it (sure, they'd framed them as concerned suggestions, but Jason had still felt the burning urge to remind them that not everyone was filthy rich like they'd been), apparently that didn't extend to when he was on patrol.

No, apparently this was "too dangerous" for him, and apparently he needed to "be more careful", "invest in some better gear", "maybe get in touch with his family and let them know where he was, just in case."

(The last one had taken him _a lot_ of effort not to snap at them, or take a swing at their — unfortunately intangible — heads).

He'd forced himself to ignore them and continue with his work. After all, there was filth all over his streets, and if he didn't take care of it, then who would? Bruce and his lackys? The police? No one else was willing to admit the truth and go to the same lengths that he did, and if he wasted his time freaking out about his dead stalkers and didn't do his job, then there'd be no one to pick up where he'd left of.

He'd been doing a good job, and Martha and Thomas had even quietened down somewhat. Maybe they didn't like what they were seeing. Maybe the sight of his guns were making them more uncomfortable than they'd initially let on (that was they're own fault. If they didn't like it, they could leave - preferably back to the manor). Or maybe they realised that this work took concentration, and they didn't want to see him lying dead on the sidewalk somewhere. They were annoying, selfish bastards, but they needed him to do their dirty work, and for that he needed to be alive.

Then he'd bumped into his oldest and youngest 'brothers' and everything had turned to shit.

It wasn't often that he came across any of them while on patrol. It occurred to him that he'd wondered a bit too far; he usually tried to stay far away from the places he knew that Batman patrolled in. His fists clenched slightly, and he felt another wave of annoyance. If those assholes had just left him alone, he wouldn't have been so distracted.

"Hood!" It took him a while to process that this was Dick and not Bruce — at first all he had seen was the Batman costume and he'd felt a wave of panic, because there was _no way_ he was dealing with that right now. But the Batman in front of him had seemed way too cheerful and enthusiastic, so it was definitely _not_ Bruce. Since there was only one other person who Bruce would allow to wear his suit, this was definitely Dick.

Bruce was probably out of town or out of commission then. Jason felt some relief at the thought.

Damian was standing beside him, and made a small noise of distaste as he eyed Jason. It was funny how different these two were, considering how close they were (Demon Brat might deny it, but Jason remembered what a shit brother Dickhead had been back when he, Jason and Bruce were playing happy little family).

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, directing his question at Dick. Asking Damian anything would probably lead to a string of death threats and migraine-inducing screeches, and while Jason usually loved to rile the kid up, he really wasn't in the mood right now. "Where's Daddy Dearest?"

Dick shrugged. "Not here at the moment. He asked me to take over for a few days."

Jason shrugged. He could pry a bit further if he wanted to, but he really didn't care. If anything, he was surprised that the Dead Stalkers hadn't said anything yet. He shot them a glance from the corner of his eye, and saw that they were simply standing there and watching them. Creepy, but as long as they shut the fuck up, he was totally fine with that.

"How are you?" Dick asked, his voice light and casual, as if this were a family get-together.

Jason sighed. "Right, I'm leaving now."

And, since he could never have any good things in his life, Martha just had to choose that moment to break her silence.

"Oh look at them, so grown up." She smiled, looking more than a little starry-eyed. "Jason, ask them if they're eating properly."

Jason's eye twitched.

"And if they're sleeping properly! Oh, I'm always so worried about all this crime fighting — and Damian's just a child, he really shouldn't be out this late — "

Thomas nodded in agreement. "I love Bruce, but I can't say I agree with some of his parenting methods. It's _late._ Damian should really be in bed at this time."

"Jason, darling, do you think you could ask Damian to make sure he gets plenty of sleep? At least eight hours."

"You know, we've been wanting to say that to you lot for years."

"I _know!_ It's so frustrating having to hang back, not being able to have a say — Jason, be a dear and — "

"Oh my _god,_ shut the _fuck up!"_

Well, he'd lasted four days. Demon Brat probably wouldn't last four minutes.

"Are you alright?" Dick asked, sounding shocked and concerned.

Damian had been staring at him, looking equally shocked, but he'd recovered by now, and was watching him with his usual sneer. "Yelling at nothing is a sign of insanity. Not that we didn't already know that, of course."

Jason took a step back. Martha and Thomas had gotten the message at shut up, for now anyway. Jason wasn't naive enough to think that would last.

"I'm leaving."

Dick opened his mouth to protest, but Jason cut him off. "I'm _leaving,_ okay? Being around you assholes for this long is giving me a headache." He turned around and paused. "Hey, Demon Brat?" He turned his head and saw Damian stiffen, eyeing him suspiciously. "Stay up as late as possible, okay? In fact, don't even sleep, because who the fuck needs sleep, right?"

Thomas winced, and Martha shot him a disapproving look. Jason smirked.

"What the hell are you babbling on about?" Damian asked, confused and annoyed.

Jason walked away without answering. He caught sight of Dick's concerned expression as he turned away, and felt his mood dampen yet again. He clenched his fists, but worked on keeping his head high and maintaining an expression of disinterest.

The Dead Stalkers remained silent for the rest of the journey home.

…

"Jason, we weren't trying to make you mad," Martha said, sounding more subdued than usual. Their silence had lasted until they'd reached Jason's apartment. He removed the helmet from his head and dumped it on the floor, before working on his jacket. He considered ignoring them again, but remembered how well _that_ had worked out. No, these assholes needed to be confronted head on.

"If you thought that," he said, removing his jacket, "then you're more of an idiot than I thought."

Martha's eyes narrowed slightly, and Jason thought she was about to tell him off. If she actually had the nerve to do _that_ , then he was really going to lose it. In the end, her shoulders slumped, and she let out a small sigh. "We were honestly concerned. Damian's still so young — "

"I don't _care_ about Demon Brat!" The softness in her voice annoyed him even more. If the past few days had proved anything, it was that Martha Wayne was a pushy, devious _bitch._ He wasn't buying into this nice act. "Or Dickhead! And it's not even about that, it's about the fact that you won't fucking leave me alone — but you know what, it's not like you persistent assholes are going to understand."

They only cared about what they wanted, after all. Bruce had to have learnt it from somewhere.

"We're trying to help you, Jason," Thomas said, his voice steady and calm. "This is for _all_ of you. You're alone here — "

"I'm not alone."

"You need _family."_

Jason's head throbbed. "I haven't _got_ family. Bruce Wayne is not my dad. Dickhead, and Demon Brat and Replacement aren't my siblings."

"And Cassandra," Martha said.

"…What?"

"Your sister."

What the hell? "Who the fuck is — oh god, there's another one, isn't there? Fuck. Okay. Just… _fuck."_

Oh God, he was really losing it. He needed to do something. He needed to get out of here, beat the shit out of someone, fire out a few rounds at whatever low-life scum he could find —

He turned around and walked over to where he'd left his phone balanced on the arm of the couch. He felt tired. Martha and Thomas followed after him, slow and hesitant, and he ignored them. Honestly, he didn't know what he was doing. He glanced at the sofa, in all it's stained and sunken glory, and considered collapsing into it and going to sleep. Apparently these bastards couldn't stalk him in his dreams, so there was always that.

Instead, he picked up his phone and skimmed through his contact list. If he didn't talk to someone who wasn't dead, and who wasn't somehow connected to Bruce, he was going to lose his mind.

"Who are you calling?" Martha asked.

Jason ignored her and held the phone to his ear. He tapped his fingers against his leg, waiting impatiently for an answer. Finally, there was a familiar "hello" from the other line as Roy finally answered the phone.

"It's me."

"Jay? What the hell man, it's late."

"Do you know any priests?"

"…Huh?"

"I need someone to do an exorcism," Jason stared pointedly at the Martha and Thomas as he spoke. Thomas sighed, and Martha's hopeful expression faded, her shoulders slumping in disappointment.

"Are you drunk?" Roy asked, sounding more annoyed than confused or concerned.

Jason winced. "I wish I was."

"Jason, I'm sorry if this is upsetting," Martha said. "I just think if you spent some time with them, then — "

Jason ignored her. "Do you know any good exterminators then? I feel like I really need to get my house cleaned, you know? There are just some pests hanging around that I can't get rid of."

Fuck, he didn't even know what he was saying anymore. He needed some sleep.

"Jason? What's the fuck is going on?"

Jason sighed. "God, you don't want to know."

" — it hurts to see your family torn apart like this. Thomas and I would give anything to make things better for you guys. I just wish that we — "

Jason tried to block out the sound of his voice. This wasn't going the way he'd planned. Hell, he wasn't even sure _what_ he'd been planning, beyond really, _really_ wanting to annoy the Dead Stalkers. Right now, he was starting to feel the beginnings of a very unwelcome emotion — _guilt._

There was no _way_ he was letting Martha Wayne of all people guilt-trip him into doing anything. He'd resisted Dickhead's nagging and kicked-puppy stares, he could definitely deal with her.

" — and I know you don't want us hanging around, but Jason, you're the only one who can do anything about this — "

Jason's eye twitched.

"Jason?" Roy asked.

"Oh my god, shut the _fuck_ _up._ Fine!"

Martha froze, her words cutting off abruptly. Her eyes widened in surprise and hope. Beside her, Thomas looked equally surprised.

Jason felt a bit pleased at that. The thought of agreeing to any of this left a bad taste in his mouth, but this had gone on long enough. He had to get rid of them somehow, and if this was the only way to do it, then what the hell. He'd been through worse — he'd clawed his way out of his own _grave_ for fuck's sake. It'd just be embarrassing if he couldn't deal with two dead socialites.

"Wait what?" Roy sounded incredulous. "Jason, what the hell?"

Jason blinked. Oh yeah, for a minute there he'd forgotten about Roy. "Oh, I was, uh…sleep calling you. Good night." He hung up the phone. Maybe that was a little weird and confusing, but it took two to maintain a friendship, and Roy could walk away whenever he wanted to. He obviously hadn't done so yet, so until he did, he could put up with all of Jason's bullshit.

He set the phone down, and turned to Thomas and Martha. "If it'll get rid of you morons, I'll do it," he said. "But we are doing this on _my_ terms, okay? Forget all this 'reuniting the family' garbage, because it's never going to happen."

He thought for a moment. He had to be careful about what he agreed to. There was no way he was spending extensive time with any member of Bruce's fanclub, but maybe he could deal with an hour or so. It'd be worth it in the end if it got rid of the Dead Stalkers.

"I'll spend a bit of time with each of them," he said at last.

"A day with each one," Martha said.

"An _hour_ with each one."

Surprisingly, she didn't even hesitate before nodding. "Fine."

"And I _will not_ be including Bruce in any of this, okay? I'll deal with Demon Brat, Replacement, Dickhead, and uh, the sister — "

"And Stephanie and Barbara," Thomas added. "Maybe Bruce never officially adopted them, but they're part of the family too."

Jason ran a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. Fine, whatever. He liked Barbara well enough, and Stephanie…he didn't know her at all, really, but maybe that was a good thing. It'd make her easier to deal with.

"Fine. But no Bruce."

"Alright."

Jason sighed, relaxing slightly. "I'll tell the Demon Brat to sleep more or whatever if that's what you want. And I'll…do _something_ with the others, I don't know. But everything has to be approved by me first, alright? I'm not passing along any messages that'll make me look like I'm crazy. Or like I actually _like_ them. Okay?"

Thomas nodded. "Okay."

Jason glared at them. "That's _all_ I will be doing. And after that, you're going to leave me alone. Okay?"

"We have a deal," Thomas said, smiling. Martha nodded in agreement.

Jason's eyes narrowed slightly. It couldn't be _that_ easy, right? There had to be a catch. There was no way these persistent assholes would be satisfied with what he was giving them.

"I will _not_ be changing my mind," he told them, his voice firm. "If you think I'm going to magically have a change of heart — "

"It's fine, Jason," Martha said. "This is more than enough."

Jason eyed them suspiciously for a moment. Finally, he stood up and walked away in the direction of his bedroom. Neither Thomas nor Martha followed him, and he let out a sigh of relief once he was in the privacy of his room.

He wasn't an idiot. There had to be a catch. Maybe they thought he'd change his mind and go the whole way. Maybe they thought he'd suddenly realise how much he adored Bruce and the rest of those bastards, and go running into their arms while everyone shrieked and wailed in joy.

(Oh God, that was a horrific mental image).

Well _that_ definitely wasn't going to happen. A deal was a deal, and whether they liked it or not, the Dead Stalkers were going right back to the manor when all of this was over.

 **…**

 **AN:**

 **Hey guys! So sorry about the long wait! I've been really busy with exams, and…well after those were done I was just being really lazy. But anyway, I've finally got this out, and wow, I had a lot of fun with this chapter! I'm really loving writing this fic, so I hope you guys are enjoying this! I definitely plan to make this long - I have A LOT of ideas for this thing.**

 **So…Jason has a new nickname for his grandparents :) And he's still not happy with any of this, but he's reluctantly cooperating for now. Also, I have no idea if Jason had actually met Steph and Cass in the comics…he seems to know them pretty well in most Batfam fics I come across, but I don't know if that's just a fandom thing. So in this fic, he doesn't know them that well.**

 **Also, I've decided that this story is going to be entirely in Jason's POV. However, I might write little drabbles and one shots based on parts of this story later on, so if there's anything you'd like to see from another character's POV, or anything I mention in this which you would like to see expanded upon, just mention it in the comments :) Obviously there's not much to work with now but I've got a lot planned for this story.**

 **Hope this chapter was worth the wait, and tell me what you think! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Since Damian was the most accessible — just a quick trip to the manor and back, and Bruce was away on a business trip, which was an added perk — Jason decided to visit him first. He tried to remind himself that it wouldn't be _that_ bad. It was just an hour, and then he could cross Demon Brat off the list and move on to his next target.

Then he reached the manor, caught sight of a scowling Damian standing in the open doorway, and thought, _'Oh God, why?'_

 _"What_ are you doing here?"

"Move it, kid," Jason said, shoving past Damian and wandering inside. The place looked empty, and Jason briefly wandered where Alfred was, since Damian had been the one to open the door. He would've thought the snobby little brat thought opening doors was beneath him.

Damian stumbled slightly, before righting himself and storming in after Jason, while Martha and Thomas watched on disapprovingly.

"If you're looking for Father, he isn't here," Damian said, eyes narrowed.

Jason snorted. "I know that. Why would I be looking for _him?"_ Hell, the only reason he'd even agreed to come here was because he knew Bruce was gone for the next few days. He'd take the Dead Stalker's company over Mr. Father of the Year.

"Then why are you here?!"

"For you." Jason reached out and slapped him on the shoulder. "It's your lucky day kid. You're about to spend the day with me." Well, more like an hour, but Demon Brat probably didn't care about the specifics.

Damian stared. "…Get out."

"Nah, don't think I will. What do you do in your free time, kid? Other than trying to kill people of course — I don't have a problem with it, obviously, but Bruce might go a bit apeshit and I _really_ don't want to have to deal with that."

"Todd, I'm warning you…."

"Jason!" Martha said warningly. Jason spared them a glance, and saw that both Martha and Thomas were wearing matching frowns. Well. It's not like they hadn't asked for this.

Still though, as fun as it was to antagonise the bastards, it wasn't really going to help him. The whole reason he'd even agreed to do this was to get rid of them, and unless he went through with this, they wouldn't be going anywhere.

Better just get this over with then.

"I'm kidding," he told Damian, who continued to watch him with an expression that could probably shatter mirrors. "Look, I just thought we could spend some time together, because…" He tried to think of a reason, but found himself drawing a blank. Wow, he really hadn't spent any time with this kid, had he? "Er…I'm thinking of going into childcare, and this'd be really good practice."

Damian's scowl deepened. "Is that a joke?"

Jason shrugged. "Yup. The childcare thing was a joke — I'm going to be a comedian."

"You?" Damian snorted. "You'd be booed off the stage."

"Nah, I wouldn't." Jason grinned. "Get this — for my grand finale, I'm going to — drum roll — reveal Dick's manhood to the audience! Guess what guys, his name might be Dick, but he's barely got one!"

Damian's expression immediately darkened, and he took a threatening step forward. "How dare you?!"

"…Yeah on second thought, Dickhead's gotta be popular with the ladies for some reason. It sure isn't his winning personality."

"Talk about Grayson in such a disgraceful manner again and you'll regret it!"

The kid clearly didn't have a sense of humour. If Jason had been a kid, he'd be howling with laughter right now.

"I'm starting to think this was a very bad idea…" Martha murmured.

Thomas winced. "It's like watching a train wreck, isn't it?"

Jason twitched slightly. He'd forgotten they were still there, watching his every move. Whatever satisfaction he'd gotten from Damian's reaction vanished almost immediately.

He glanced at his watch. "Has it been an hour yet?"

"What on earth are you talking about, Todd?" Damian demanded.

"Not you."

"There's _no one else here!"_

"Not even close," Martha told him, her eyes narrowed. "Jason, you aren't even trying!"

 _"Todd!"_

Oh for fucks sake. Jason turned back to Damian, and snapped, "If you _must_ know, I'm talking to your dead grandparents."

Probably not his best move, if Damian's dumbstruck expression was anything to go by, but at least the kid hadn't started screaming, or tried to kill him yet.

Then, because he was in a bad mood, currently being ambushed by _three_ Waynes (which was fucking ridiculous because there should have only been two Waynes left), and because, admittedly, he could be a bit of a jackass at times, he kept going. "What they forget to mention is how fucking _annoying_ they are. Seriously, Martha Wayne is a right old — "

 _"GET OUT!"_

Yeah, there was the Demon Brat he knew.

"You come into my home and slander my family! You aren't one of us! Leave now or you will rue the day you chose to insult the Wayne family!"

Jason shrugged. Well, he'd tried. "Okay then. Bye."

He turned around and walked out of the door, making sure to shut it behind him, since Damian didn't look like he was in the mood to do it himself. See, he could be considerate when he wanted to be.

He glanced up, hoping that Martha and Thomas had decided to stay in the manor, deciding that he was a lost cause after all. Ha. As if it'd ever be that easy.

Instead, the Dead Stalkers stood there watching him, their arms crossed over their chest, and wearing matching disapproving frowns.

"…I did try, okay. It's not my fault Demon Brat is over-sensitive."

"Jason, you were tormenting the poor child!"

Jason snorted. "Uh, no I wasn't. Not my fault the kid doesn't know how to take a joke."

Martha's eyes narrowed. "Jason, _I_ felt like slapping you, and I have a _very_ high tolerance for dealing with assholes!"

Thomas coughed. "Martha, dear — "

"Did you seriously just call me an _asshole_?" He was genuinely surprised — in all the time he'd been around her, Martha hadn't sworn at him. She was a manipulative bitch, sure, but she was apparently a sophisticated one.

"Of course not, darling," Martha said dryly. "You're just a grown man, trying to get a rise out of a ten year old child."

Jason rolled his eyes. Maybe she _did_ have a bit of a point but…well, you could hold a gun to his head, and he still wouldn't admit that aloud. Besides, it was fun to annoy Demon Brat. It's not like the kid wouldn't do the exact same thing if their roles were reversed.

Martha sighed. "Well, you obviously don't want to do this. We should just go home now."

The 'we' didn't go unnoticed by Jason. "You're a devious bitch."

Thomas frowned slightly, clearly unhappy about the insult to his wife, but Martha seemed unbothered by it, to Jason's annoyance. She simply raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "Insult me all you want — you're still going to be spending a lot of time with me." She turned to Thomas. "Oh, Thomas, we should tell him _all_ about our ideas for improving his apartment! Jason, you're alright with that, aren't you dear? Since you don't have any plans for the afternoon anymore — "

"Oh God, _FINE!"_ Because sure, this was painful, but spending the rest of his life being stalked by these bastards? Just the thought made him want to crawl back into his grave.

He turned around and reached for the handle of the door, only to find that it was locked. He banged repeatedly on the door with both hands. _"DEMON BRAT! OPEN UP!"_

"Is this a good idea?" Thomas murmured, watching Jason with worried eyes. Jason thought he heard Martha say something in response, but didn't listen too closely to hear what it was. It didn't really matter in the end; whether they thought it was a good idea or not, he doubted that they'd be going anywhere. He was obviously their golden fucking goose, and unless he found some other unfortunate bastard who could see dead people, he was stuck with them.

The door swung open a moment later, revealing Alfred standing on the other side. The older man watched Jason with raised eyebrows, clearly confused by his presence. "Master Jason."

"Hey Alfie," Jason said with a brief nod. "Where's Damian?"

"He stormed past me and went to the living room a few minutes earlier," Alfred said, moving to the side to let Jason in. "I suppose you had something to do with that?"

"Yup." Alfred frowned slightly, and Jason bit back a sigh. "Look, I'm here to apologise, okay? No really, you can even watch me if you want. I just want to spend…" He glanced at his watch. "…Forty five minutes with the kid."

"One hour," Thomas corrected. "I don't think any of that counted."

 _'You're dead, so your opinion shouldn't count,'_ Jason thought to himself. He didn't say it aloud, because by now he'd realised that his mind was his only sanctuary when it came to dealing with these assholes.

"I mean one hour," he amended.

Alfred frowned. "Master Jason, are you alright?"

"Fine," Jason said, nodding. "Just fine. I'll be even better once I see the little demon."

Thomas coughed. "Maybe hold back on the insults?"

 _"DEMON!"_

"Just take what you can get, dear," Martha said to Thomas.

"He's in the living room," Alfred said. _"Try_ not to antagonise him too much."

Jason shrugged. He wasn't making any promises. It was Demon Brat; the kid's default emotion was anger. He walked towards to the living room, and found Damian curled up on one of the sofas, his dog (something pretentious…oh yeah, Titus) curled up beside him.

Damian glanced up, his expression immediately darkening. "What do you want?!"

Okay, this was going to be hard — Damian had always been so easy annoy, unlike Dickhead, who seemed to eat rainbows and sparkles for breakfast these days, and even Replacement, who mostly just got uncomfortable and made excuses to leave whenever he was around.

A glance at Martha and Thomas reminded him of what was at stake here.

"I just wanted to apologise," he said. "…I guess."

Damian looked suspicious, which, Jason supposed, was fair enough. "Apologise?"

"Yeah. For…" He thought back to what he'd done. "…Calling you a demon."

"You insulted Grayson."

"Yeah. Well, that was…a joke. Just some brotherly banter." He inwardly gagged — 'brotherly'. Ugh. Wrong choice of wording.

Martha beamed, and Jason thought he might actually throw up.

Damian crossed his arms in front of himself, still wearing at expression that could make babies cry. Probably _had_ on more than one occasion. "You made vulgar remarks about him."

Seriously, what the fuck was _wrong_ with this kid? "Oh Jesus kid, lighten up a bit. I get that you're the spawn of Bruce and Talia, and that's pretty much doomed you for life in terms of having a sense of humour — "

"And now you're insulting my parents!"

 _"No_ I'm just stating a fact!"

Martha sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Just tell him you're sorry for all of it."

Jason twitched. "I'm not — "

"Still an hour."

Dammit. God fucking _dammit._

"Look — I'm sorry okay," he forced out. Damian continued to watch him, obviously unmoved. Well, screw him, that had taken him _a lot_ of effort, even if he hadn't meant a word of it. "Let's just watch a movie or something."

Damian sniffed. "No."

 _"Yes._ I'm going to be watching so either you join in or…look kid, just shut up and stop being such a shithead, okay?"

"I don't want to watch a movie!" Damian snapped. "Grayson always makes me watch those horrid Disney films."

God, the kid hated Disney too? Was there _anything_ remotely normal about him? He liked animals, which Jason guessed was a normal, human thing, but he also tortured them with pretentious names like 'Titus'.

"We don't have to watch anything Disney," Jason told him. He thought for a moment. "What about something super violent and bloody?" That'd probably be more Demon Brat's cup of tea.

 _"Jason!"_ Martha and Thomas both said, because they obviously hadn't realised just how fucked-up their grandson was.

"Come on." He nudged Damian, who still looked annoyed. "I bet it'll remind you of your mum."

Martha face-palmed. She actually _face-palmed._ "Oh dear Lord, he has no filter."

His comment seemed to fly straight over Damian's head, which was equal parts relieving and disappointing. "Father disapproves of those type of movies."

Well, fair enough. Damian _was_ kind of a lose cannon, had spent most of his life being turned into a killing machine by his mother, and had probably tried to murder every member of this family at some point or another. Bruce probably didn't want the kid anywhere near anything that reminded him of killing…which was pretty stupid since he chucked him on the street, crossed his fingers, and hoped for the best each night.

Jason spared another glance at the kid. Eh, it'd probably be fine, and if it wasn't…he'd be long gone by the time Bruce got back anyway.

"Come on," he said, "let's go see what Bruce has in his DVD collection."

…

So, this actually hadn't been as bad as he'd thought. Damian was a pretty decent movie-watching partner, in that he stayed silent throughout the entire thing. In fact, he barely even moved, which was actually kind of creepy; but then, there were a lot of things wrong with the kid, so Jason wasn't going to nitpick too much.

Thomas and Martha were also pretty quiet, which was nice for a change. Jason glanced at his watch and grinned slightly — the hour was nearly up.

"Don't know what Bruce was on about," he said, reaching out to pet Titus. The dog had laid his head on Jason's lap sometime throughout the movie, and Jason had to admit, he was pretty damn cute. Probably his favourite occupant of the house, besides Alfred of course. "This stuff is great."

"Why?" Damian asked, glancing towards him briefly, before turning his attention back to the television.

Jason shrugged. "Well, you get secondhand satisfaction from watching people get the crap beaten out of them, or their brains blown out, and you don't even have to go out and do it yourself. Should be a win-win situation in Bruce's books."

Damian hugged Titus closer to him. "I suppose." He pat the dog quietly for a moment. "Grayson made me watch Cinderella."

Jason blinked. " _Why_?" Bit of a weird movie choice for a ten year old boy. Then again, it _was_ Dick.

Damian scowled. "I don't _know._ It was a ridiculous movie from start to finish. As if that prince wouldn't recognise her just because she was wearing a fancy gown and sporting a new hairstyle. Furthermore — I _refuse_ to believe that _no one_ else in the entire kingdom shared the same shoe size as her."

Jason stared. Okay then. "I…don't think you're supposed to analyse it this much."

Damian ignored him. Jason bit back a sigh, because this — actual conversation — was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid. "But what _really_ irked me was the treatment of those poor animals. That wench Cinderella kept those mice as slaves, using them to sew ballgowns for her, making them endanger their lives each day simply so they could have food — "

Jason watched, slightly incredulous, as Damian's face steadily changed to an interesting shade of red. He noticed Martha nodding along indulgently, and Thomas looking more than a little resigned.

" — and those birds! Forcing them to make her bed, to _bathe_ her! And if that isn't bad enough, some of them _obviously_ have some mutation to allow them to share the same brain capacity as humans! They are intelligent creatures who should _not_ be kept as _pets!"_

"Well…at least she dresses them?"

Damian scoffed. _"Please._ Dictating the way they behave, what they wear — they are a different _species_ who obviously live very different lifestyles to her."

Shit, what the hell was he supposed to say? He glanced at Martha and Thomas for help.

"Ask him if he's had enough sleep!" Martha said.

 _'Yeah, thanks for nothing.'_

"You've…obviously thought a lot about this," he said.

Damian nodded, smiling proudly. Jason blinked in surprise at that, because wow, the kid was _actually_ smiling. This…was probably the first time Jason had seen anything other than derision or a deep desire to kill someone on the kid's face. Huh. This…didn't feel normal.

(Damian almost looked like an _actual_ kid. Yeah, definitely not normal).

"I've written a letter to Disney, demanding that they create a sequel where Jaq, Gus and the others exact their revenge on Cinderella. A storm is brewing, and Cinderella's reckoning is fast approaching."

"…Right. Well then, I need to go."

Damian blinked, looking slightly startled. "Oh. Yes, of course." He nodded quickly, that familiar scowl reappearing. "You've forced your presence on me for long enough."

"Ask him if he's gotten enough sleep!"

Jason's eye twitched.

 _"Jason!"_

"Did you get enough sleep?" Jason asked Damian, since he doubted they'd shut up until he did.

Damian frowned. "Excuse me?"

"At least eight hours," Martha added, hovering near Damian's shoulder.

Jason ground his teeth together, thinking, _'It's for a good cause'._ "At least eight hours."

Damian stared.

"…Right, I'll take that as a yes." Jason stood up quickly, gave Damian a quick nod (the kid continued to stare after him, clearly confused), and walked out of the room. So that was one out of the way. He had to admit, it hadn't been as bad as he'd thought it'd be. Sure, the kid had gotten a bit weird towards the end — was this what Dickhead had to put up with? God, no wonder he regularly shat out rainbows these days; his nauseating happiness probably balanced out Damian's winning personality — but Damian had been focused on the movie for the most part, and hadn't really said much until those last few minutes. Maybe he could do that with all of them. He could get it out of the way in one go, get rid of the Dead Stalkers, and then move on with his life.

"Master Jason?" Jason glanced up to see Alfred standing nearby. "Will you be staying for lunch?"

"Nah, I need to leave," he said. There was no way he was hanging around here longer than he had to. "I've got some…work to do."

He gave Alfred a quick wave and then left. Once the door had been shut behind him, he turned around, and winced when he saw Martha and Thomas watching him with matching grins on their faces.

"Okay, seriously, stop that. It's creepy."

"I have to admit," Thomas said, "I'm not exactly pleased with your choice of movie — "

Seriously, didn't they know how Damian had grown up? He didn't think a bit of fake blood and guts was the worst thing the kid had ever seen.

" — but I'm thrilled that you spent this time with your little brother."

"You even seemed to enjoy yourself," Martha added, looking more than a little smug.

Jason glared. "Okay, first of all — he's _not_ my little brother. He's just an annoying little brat that I can tick off the list of 'shit-heads I need to spend the day with to get rid of the pests.' And secondly, I did _not_ enjoy any of that — I was actually thinking about what to do with all the free time I'll soon have when you two idiots finally leave me alone."

Martha and Thomas continued to smile at him, and Jason decided that it was a bit like talking to a brick wall. He reminded himself that they'd probably had zero interaction with anyone but each other for the past two decades or so, which probably _was_ like talking to a brick wall, considering the amount of time they'd spent discussing his curtains over the last few days.

"Whatever," Jason said. "That's done, thank fuck. Let's knock off a few more."

Martha looked surprised. "What, now?"

Jason shrugged. "Yeah, might as well. It's not like I can actually do anything else with you two hanging around." He thought about his options. The thought of spending the day with Dickhead actually made him wish the Lazarus Pit hadn't worked, and Replacement, while slightly better, was still a pretty shit choice…Babs? He'd actually liked her, before all of this, and she'd always been nice to him…spending an hour with her wouldn't be that bad.

"Barbara," Jason said. "We're going to see Barbara."

He'd just get through the list as soon as possible. Then the Dead Stalkers would relocate back to the manor, and he could go back to being his awesome, ghost-free self.

(Fuck, he really just wanted his life back).

 **…**

 **AN:**

 **YES this chapter is finally done! So sorry for the long wait (I feel like I say that a lot haha) but hopefully this chapter was worth it :)**


End file.
